Rhyme or Reason
Rhyme or Reason is the third track on The Marshall Mathers LP 2. Official Lyrics Intro (What's your name?) Marshall (Who's your daddy?) I don't have one 1 My mother reproduced like the komodo dragon And had me on the back of a motorcycle, then crashed in The side of loco-motive with rap, I'm Loco, it's like handing a psycho a loaded handgun Michelangelo with a paint gun in a tantrum 'Bout to explode all over the canvas Back with the Yoda of rap, "In a spasm Your music usually has 'em But waned for the game your enthusiasm it hasn't Follow you must, Rick Rubin my little Padawan" A Jedi in training, colossal brain and, thoughts are entertainin' But docile and impossible to explain and, I'm also vain and Probably find a way to complain about a Picasso painting Puke Skywalker, but sound like Chewbacca when I talk Full of such blind rage I need a seein' eye dog Can't even find the page I was writing this rhyme on Oh it's on the ram-page, couldn't see what I wrote I write small It says, "Ever since I drove a '79 Lincoln with whitewall, had a fire in my heart And a dire desire to aspire to Die Hard" So as long as I'm on the clock punching this time card Hip-hop ain't dying on my watch Hook Now sometimes, when I'm sleepin' She comes to me in my dreams Is she taken? Is she mine? Don't got time, don't care, don't have two shits to give Let me take you by the hand to promised land And threaten everyone Cause there's no rhyme or no reason for nothing Bridge Now (What's your name?) Marshall (Who's your daddy?) I don't know him, but I wonder (Is he rich like me?) Ha (Has he taken, any time, to show you what you need to live?) 2 No, if he had He wouldn't have ended up in these rhymes on my pad I wouldn't be so mad, my attitude wouldn't be so bad Yeah Dad I'm the epitone and the prime Example of what happens when the power of the rhyme Falls into the wrong hands, and Makes you want to get up and start dancin' Even if it is Charles Manson Who just happens, to be rapping, blue lights flashing Laughing all the way to the bank, lamping in my K-Mart mansion I'm in the style department With a pile in my cart, ripping the aisle apart but With great power comes absolutely no responsibility for content Completely, despondent and condescending The king of nonsense and controversy is on a beat killing spree Your honor, I must plead guilty, cause I sparked a revolution Rebel without a cause who caused the evolution Of rap, to take it to the next level, boost it But several rebuked it, and whoever produced it ("Hip-hop is the devil's music") Does that mean it belongs to me? Cause I just happen to be, a white honky devil with two horns That don't honk but every time I speak you hear a beep But, lyrically, I never hear a peep, not even a whisper Rappers better stay clear of me, bitch, cause it's the... Hook It's the time of the season, when hate runs high And this time, I won't give it to you easy When I take back what's mine with pleasured hands And torture everyone, that is my plan My job here isn't done Cause there's no rhyme or no reason for nothing Bridge (What's your name?) Shady (Who's your daddy?) I don't give a fuck, but I wonder (Is he rich like me?) Doubt it, ha (Has he taken any time to show what you need to live?) 3 So yeah, Dad, let's walk Let's have us a father and son talk But I bet we wouldn't probably get one blok Without me knocking your block off, this is all your fault Maybe that's why I'm so bananas, I a-ppealed to those walks Of life, whoever had strife Maybe that's what dad and son talks are like Cause I, related to the struggles of young America When their fucking parents were unaware of their troubles Now they're ripping out their fucking hair again, it' hysterical I chuckle, as everybody bloodies their bare knuckles Yeah uh-ho, you better beware knuckle heads The sign of my hustle says "Don't knock, the door's broken, it won't lock It might just fly open, get cold-cocked You critics come to pay me a visit? Misery loves a company, please stay a minute Kryptonite to a hypocrite, zip your lip if you dish it but can't take it Too busy getting stoned in your glass house, to kick rocks Then you wonder why I lash out Mr. Mathers as advertised on the flyers, so spread the word Cause I'm promoting my passion until I'm passed out Completely brain dead, Rain Man Doing a Bankhead in a restaurant chair So, bitch, shoot me a look, it better be a blank stare Or get shanked in the pancreas I'm angrier than all eight other reindeer put together with Chief Keef Cause I hate every fucking thing, yeah Even this rhyme, bitch And quit trying to look for a fucking reason for it ain't there But I still am a "Criminal!" Ten-year-old degenerate grabbing on my genitals! The last Mathers LP done went diamond This time I'm predicting this on will go emerald! When will the madness end, how can it when There's no method to the pad and the pen The only message that I have to send is, Dad I'm back at it again Yeah... (Who's your daddy?) Category:The Marshall Mathers LP 2